North (9 page)

Oh, very little . . . very little . . ."

"Then it would give me great pleasure, since you live across the street . . . you must call for me . . . I shall show you the picturesque spots . . . this city is secretive in a way . . . like your Lyons . . . it has been very much defamed, ah yes . . . slandered . . . sinister city! . . . city of pederasts! of monsters! . . . you must have heard . . ."

"Jealousy, sir . . . nothing more . . ."

"You shall see! . . . you shall see with your own eyes! . . . meanwhile, if you please, my apartment is yours . . . at your disposal. . . and all the flowers! . . . take some for your room . . . the Steinbock doesn't look like much, I know . . . the rooms are in a deplorable state . . . it suffered enormously under the last bombings . . . the whole street to be sure . . . this street, as you see it, is all façades . . . only here and there a room, an apartment . . . a few of the craters have been turned into lodgings, so I'm told . . . myself here, you can see for yourself, I've built . . . with the materials at my disposal . . . a mezzanine in mid-air . . . the ceiling the partitions, are from other buildings . . . across the street . . . next door . . . the furniture is from other destroyed neighborhoods . . . especially
Alt Köln
. . . friends here and there have helped me . . . in this house all the tenants were killed . . . killed in their homes . . . all the bodies identified . . . I am entitled by law . . . as long as I rebuild, occupy the premises residentially and pay my taxes, the place is mine . . . law of 1700, never abrogated . . ."

He was getting excited . . . pleading his cause . . . his pince-nez trembled . . . let no one question his rightl . . . or say he's, not occupying the place residentially! . . . not a florist! certainly not! Petrov's invention . . . filthy beast, ought to be Whipped, jealous swinish Slav!

"I trust it will all be settled . . . go back to Breslau? No! .. ; I'm starting a practice here . . . this will be my office!"

"Of course, my dear sir . . . of course!"

"Centrally situated, as you can see . . . two steps from the Chancellery!"

He taps his forehead . . .

"What! What! You didn't know?"

He gets up . . . really incredible . . . he looks at his watch . . . the Chancellor . . . the Chancellery so near! . . . this is the time, going on four! two steps! . . . would we care to?

"Oh, certainly! . . . delighted! . . . couldn't be more pleased! what luck!"

Pop Bébert in his bag and off we go . . . Not far, he was right . . . hardly a minute . . .

Good grief, is that their Chancellery? . . . a big stone rectangle, something like granite . . . but much more dismal than granite, more funereal . . . no wonder what happened there! . . . the Pantheon and the Invalides are gay by comparison . . . the whole thing on a gloomy small-town square . . . the doors of the Chancellery are really colossal . . . must be armored . . . and that's not all! But Adolf? . . . that's what we came for . . . is he inside? shut up? . . . is he coming out? . . . I ask Le Vig . . . he doesn't know . . . hell! . . . I ask the alleged Faustus . . . "Sh! Sh!" he goes . . . There they are! hear the band?" . . . I don't hear a thing . . . there's nobody but us on the little square . . . the three of us, the four, Lili, me, Le Vig, and him . . . nobody else . . . we stand there and wait . . . this Chancellery Square is really empty . . . not a sentry, not a soldier, not a
schupo
. . . It's beginning to look fishy to me . . . why'd he bring us here? . . . we've seen his Chancellery . . . I tell him so . . .

"Okay . . . let's go back . . ."

"Sh . . . Sh"

He hears something . . . he looks at me . . .

"There they are!"

I don't see a thing. . . I don't hear a thing. . .

Do you see anything?

I ask Lili. . . and Le Vig . . . no! nothing at all! . . . this character has me worried . . . I sort of suspected . . . but now I know . . . we don't hear or see a thing . . . but he . . . he can't contain himself! . . . he starts yelling! . . . bellowing! . . . gets up on his toes! . . .
heil! heil!
right there next to us it comes over him . . . waving his hat! . . .
heil!
. . .
heil!
. . . beside himself! . . . seeing things? . . . there's nothing . . . absolutely nothing! is he pulling our leg? a put-up job? the square is deserted . . . all the shops closed . . . and he sees Hitler!

"See him? He's going in! . . . the gates are opening! . . . magnificent! magnificent!
heil!"

And be bellows three more
heils
. . . Does he want us to . . . ? . . . he puts his hat back on . . . it's all over . . .

"Home now!"

I wasn't going to ask him if it was true . . . we don't open our mouths . . . we start off . . . we listen . . . he does the talking . . . Hitler was looking well. . . the crowd was so happy! . . . it's all right with us, we agree . . . all the way back to Schinderstrasse . . . to his house . . . through rubble and ruins . . . acrobatics . . . little stepladders to the "fourth-floor" landing, then down by the long rope ladder to his hammock mezzanine . . . rough! especially for me with my dizzy spells . . . well, here we are . . . where did he find all this furniture? . . . he explains . . . perfectly lucid . . . not raving any more . . . he has connections all over the suburbs . . . he buys furniture from people who've gone away . . . the absquatulated, the bombed-out, the deceased . . . oh, not whole lots . . . only the best pieces! I can see that it's true, he's not talking through his hat . . . good stuff! . . . chests of drawers, tables, chairs, not hideous in the least . . . I ask him . . .

"Is that legal too?"

"Absolutely! . . . Paragraph 4! same law of 1700! . . . reconstruction! I reconstruct! . . . I live here! . . . I pay my taxes! . . . absolutely regular!"

Not nuts at all. . .

"Ordinance of December 13, Potsdam 1700!"

Down cold! . . .

I listen to him . . . our place on rue Girardon, I'm thinking, it must be the same right this minute, they must be helping themselves . . . bet they've got sweet ordinances! . . . and well never see any of the stuff again . . . one side or the other, Boches or brethren, don't worry! all the same, crooks, scavengers, vampires of disaster . . . the uniform doesn't mean a thingi or the flag . . . thieves the whole lot of them . . . murderers! across the Rhine, Transcaucasus, Touraine, Arabidjan, Connecticut, don't beat your brains out, hominids wherever you gol . . . Lower Provence, Upper Silesia, bloodsuckers, phony lunatics, shysters barge in! . . . take everything you've got! . . . bad reputation? string him up! at ease! . . . got the article right here! . . . 75 . . . 113 . . . 117 . . . and the neck stretcher right around the corner . . . on with the noose!
crack!
this fellow here, it seemed to me, was taking pretty bad risks . . . from one minute to the next the whole kaboodle could hit him on the beezer, rare knickknacks, exotic plants, showcases in mid-air . . . they'd grab it all! . . . or suppose the RAF got interested in Berlin again! . . . this was only the intermission! . . . What good would his articles and paragraphs do him? even dating from Frederick . . . where would he go, he and his imaginary Hitler?

Ah, mezzanine! . . . ah, Chancellery! . . . sure, for the moment, during the intermission, he was better off than we were . . . his hanging gardens were kind of jolly . . . did he have visions? . . . possible! his nerves, the bombing? . . . I ask him . . .

"Did you lose everything, my dear sir? bombed out? . . . in Breslau?

I know his Breslau, a black country, earth and sky, blacker than Prussia and colder . . .

"Yes, everything! . . . absolutely everything! . . . material, losses!
ach! ach!

Here a gesture . . . such things mattered little! so little! . . . but! . . . but! . . .

"But my wife, my dear wife Anna! . . . and my younger son Horst, six years old . . ."

We're grieved of course . . . but he's not through yet:

"Two other sons! . . . in Russia . . . no news in sixteen months . . . my brother and nephew in France! . . . no news!"

We let out a few more ohs and ahs . . . best we can do . . . anyway this character, with everybody gone and no news, he rigs up an apartment and a lawyer s office . . . later, on Avenue Junot I saw the exact same thing . . . they took everything we had and moved in residentially . . . Purges are quick . . . half a second, they cut your throat and help themselves . . . you go back and it's all over! . . . your successor is reading his paper, smoking his pipe, Madame is busy doing something with her brassiere, sewing, farting, and discussing vacation plans . . . the little girl is playing the piano, out of tune . . . you've got no more business there . . . go your way, kick off in silence . . . Faustus here had confidence . . . all set up in his hammock-apartment, which belonged to him more or less, he was looking forward to a long future . . . paying his taxes . . . nothing to worry about . . . And the whole place seesawed, it wouldn't have taken much to send his whole flower shop plummeting down into the street . . . one little bomb . . . dive and good-bye! . . . sitting there in the midst of his flumdiddle, I could see him in a regular shop on rue de Provence or Palais-Royal . . . he had everything, stuffed birds, collections of insects . . . fancy drapes . . . losing his wife, his son Horst, and God knows who else . . . and his brother . . . didn't crimp his trust that the tragedy would be over someday and that here with his residential setup, paying his taxes, his future was secure, especially in this location, a few steps from the Chancellery . . . all he had to do was wait . . . I agreed . . . I told him he was perfectly right . . . Le Vig and Lili congratulated him on his good taste, his knickknacks . . . so amusing! . . . his lovely flowers, his perfect French . . .

"You really think so?"

"Definitely!"

And more compliments . . .

I stood up and roamed around . . . a closer look . . . a knick-knack, another . . . What the! . . . I look again! . . . no mistake! . . . that fan! . . . seen it before! . . . absolutely! . . . I don't say a word, I keep it to myself . . . it's Madame von Dopfs fan from Baden-Baden . . . no mistake, there isn't another like it. . . I'll tell them when we get back to the hotel . . . in a situation like this a word too much can be fatal . . . I know from experience . . . let's not have any trouble . . . I turn my head, I compliment him some more on his flowers, his Mexican vases . . . his shrewdness in picking up options on all the wreckage in the neighborhood . . . even on the Steinbock across the street . . . rubble at three marks a ton, excavation at ten marks a square yard! . . . what an investment! I talked about everything . . . except the fan! then he had to give us another reading of the texts certifying his rights . . . and Lili had to choose a fewflowers . . . two . . . ten . . . as many as she liked . . . To get bade we'd climb down the ladder to the sidewalk . . . then he'd drop us a basket on a rope . . . all right with us . . . anything he said . . .

"Tomorrow at the same time? I shall take it as a favor . . . well go to Charlottenburg . . . would you like that?"

"Oh, certainly, my dear sir, certainly!"

Ah, the sidewalk! . . . at last! . . . and here's the basket coming down . . . quick! quick! ever so grateful! good-bye . . . good-bye. . .

"Thank you, sir . . . thank you!"

Back to our pad . . . We cross through the rubble quick . . . before the old men can wall us in . . . quick, our staircase . . . it's still there! . . . our rooms too . . .

"Now, you two, listen to me . . . you didn't see anything?"

I'm speaking in a whisper . . .

"No . . . his flowers . . ."

"You didn't see Hitler?"

"No . . ." 

"Who do you think this Faustus is?"

Le Vig doesn't hesitate . . .

"He's a cop, Ferd!"

"What was he after?"

"For us to say something seditious . . ."

"We fucked him there . . . never mind, he'll try again . . . but one thing you didn't see . . . in his place . . . pinned to the curtain in back . . ."

"What?"

"So you didn't notice! . . . easy to see if I'm nuts . . . Lili, where did you put Madame von Dopf's fan?"

No trouble, everything we own is in one suitcase, we know right away . . . Lili dumps it out on the bed, nothing! . . . no fan! . . .

"You didn't notice? . . . it's over at Faustus's!"

"So what?"

"So we've got to split!"

"Faustus never came here . . ."

"No, but Ivan . . ."

"You think they're in cahoots?"

"Babe in arms . . . Take it from me . . . if we don't clear out of here this second, we're in trouble . . . the thieving is nothing . . . it's the hanky-panky that bothers me . . ."

He doesn't think very fast. . . in practical matters . . . Lili neither . . . luckily I'm the boss . . .

"If we stay here we're fucked!"

"Where do we go?"

"Tve got an address!"

I didn't want to use that address . . . but this was no time to be finicky . . . couldn't be helped . . . the "alien squad" with those "anti-us" pictures of ours . . . no other solution . . . but Harras . . . a very compromising friend, couldn't deny it! super-SS! Just too bad!
alea facta!
Caesar hadn't gone into his thing very cheerfully either . . . At least Harras was the genuine article! no half-Nazi, quarter something else . . . Professor Harras, President of the Reich Medical Association . . . yes, plenty compromising, no question, but our first fatal crime was leaving our country . . . it's always the first step that counts!. . . forging checks, cracking safes, shop windows, high treason, and everything eue!. . . the first step is the toboggan of dishonor! . . . Lili and Le Vig see what I mean . . . 

"Yes, sure . . . you're right!"

They agree . . . but what a holy mess! . . . the game was up when we left Montmartre! . . . Le Vig himself, before he left, had built a kind of fort in bis own kitchen, beds, tables, chairs, washboiler . . . but they'd got him in the end! . . . same as they got Bonnot ° and Fort Chabrol °. . . Speaking of Fort Chabrol, a childhood memory, I saw that siege . . . and the surrender . . . and while we're at it, I've read since that Guérin ° was a very shady character . . . cop or not, I saw the bridge company of the First Engineers taking him away . . . he'd died a natural death on Quai de l'Ecluse . . . during the big flood of 1910 . . . those kid memories are always like yesterday . . .